


Nice Boys

by anxietygnome (orphan_account)



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Spoilers, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/anxietygnome
Summary: Even as Ouma clutched onto his pillow, letting the tears fall unnaturally, he couldn't rid his bed of the smell that his beloved Amami left behind. It was sickly sweet. He wanted to gag.OrOuma can't cope with Amami's death.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi
Kudos: 59





	Nice Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Weewoo !! I love writing angst, however, I don't feel I do ingame Ouma much justice though, so bear that in mind as you read !! See you at the end, loves <3

He was alone now. But, then again, hadn't it always been that way? Even before chapter one officially started, he had been alone. Only two people seemed to take an interest in him. One of which, had died. The other, too busy mourning both losses, of the victim and the blackened. It was stupid, Ouma decided, to feel this vulnerable. He had a strange attraction to the victim, Rantaro Amami, that he couldn't explain. Perhaps, Amami and he had been soulmates in another life. That would make sense. Whatever, it was still stupid. He hated this damn feeling of loss for someone he barely knew for five fucking minutes. He was probably better chasing after Saihara, but the damn detective was so caught up over Akamatsu, who **murdered** _**his**_ **beloved**. For that, he could not forgive the detective. Ever. It would be strange, should he take an interest in the other.

With a defeated sigh, the supreme leader collapsed onto his bed, clutching the sheets that had held one of his most prized valuables. A relationship he'd never get back. Sure, one might look at what he had with the other ultimate as a fling, but to him. . . goddamnit to him it was _so much more_. No one had ever looked at him with such kind and soft eyes. They had always looked at him with want, disgust, anger, and many other emotions. He hated it, so no wonder he found the now-deceased ultimate's touch so new, and inviting. He'd never felt anything like it. _God, I'm so fucking pathetic, sitting here like this._ The leader thought bitterly, a sour taste making its way into his mouth as he sat there, looking extremely ill, and unwelcoming. His body recoiled at the thought of someone making their way into his room as he was here. Like this. In this state. It was repulsive to even think one might dare trying it.

The purplette let go of the sheets reluctantly, ignoring a knock he heard at the door from someone who sounded genuinely concerned. He didn't care. Giving into the little sniffles he had been releasing beforehand, he finally succumbed, grabbing the pillow at the top of his bed, one that the limette had laid his head upon, and used it to stifle his sobs. He didn't want who he presumed to be a cyanette on the other side of the door to hear his turmoil. So, he was going to shut himself up in the easiest damn way possible. By using objects to keep himself quiet. The first whiff of the pillow wasn't that bad. It brought back memories of a shared cuddle, one that seemed endless, but now was remembered upon with dull aspects. It made him listless, unresponsive. Until a still concerned male outside his door made their presence still known. Tch, what, did they think he'd magically give in and let them in? Tough shit. He might've made an effort to tell them to scram if it weren't for the fact he knew his voice would all but give away every damn thing he didn't want anyone knowing about.

Even as Ouma clutched onto his pillow, letting the tears fall unnaturally, he couldn't rid his bed of the smell that his beloved Amami left behind. It was sickly sweet. He wanted to gag. He probably would've, if it weren't for the fact that he forced himself up to answer the damn door. In one way, he felt horribly bad for turning someone away who seemed to care. So, thumbing it open quietly, he found he was quickly encaptured by a pair of arms. A hug ?? . . . How thoughtful of Saihara. Oh well, he'd thank him later. Right now, he allowed himself to be led back to the bed to talk. It was strange, felt so surreal. Huh, guess that shit really changes when you actually lose someone you care about. . . . He couldn't let that happen to the detective. No matter what. This was the only other person he possibly cared about. So, he'd cling to him for now, have his mask up by morning, and protect this boy at all costs. Yeah. . . Amami would probably be proud of him for that.

. . . for now, though, his mind remained fixated on the fact that one of his beloved was dead. He eventually tuned the other boy out, and was left alone. Saihara's attempt to comfort him failed, and Ouma was okay with that. This was fine, for now. He'd be okay come morning anyways. It didn't matter.

**Author's Note:**

> yikes, posted the story before I was done, but I hope you like it !! heioehfsjdhv i really,,, have a kick for oumami ><


End file.
